


Bail me out

by Wish_ika



Category: Star Wars
Genre: Clones being bros, Fox deserves better, Fox is a good brother, The Wolfpack - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:47:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23832604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wish_ika/pseuds/Wish_ika
Summary: Wolffe gets arrested again. Fox gets dragged down to the jail to bail Wolffe out. Wolffe has a valid excuse this time
Relationships: CC-3636|Wolffe & CC-1010|Fox
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	Bail me out

Inside the Office of the Commander of the Coruscant Guard  
The Wolfpack has been arrested for starting a brawl in a bar in lower level Coruscant.

Kark. Fox rubs a hand over his eyes and wonders if Miracle put anything in his caff. Course it’s the Wolfpack. It’s always the kriffing Wolfpack. Fox pulls his data pad from under a stack of paperwork and surveys the rest of the message.

Commander Wolffe has used your contact as his one call. Commlink channel 18.

Again? Fox sighs, slamming his head against the desk. The irritating beeps of his commlink forces him to peel his forehead off the cool metallic surface. He yanks his commlink out of his belt and answers it.

“What the kark do you want Wolffe.”  
“I need a favour.”  
“Not gonna help.”  
“Come on Fox’ika. You owe me one. For that time with the drunk Shinies.”  
“No, I don’t di’kut. I paid those off by pulling Bly and Ponds back to Coruscant for our decanting day.”  
“Osik. Well I’ll owe you one if you come and bail me out.”  
“You shebs. Buy me drinks for a month and I’ll consider it.”  
“You drive a hard barging Vod. Just come and bail me out.”  
“Deal.”

Fox tosses his commlink back into his belt and presses the button on his desk.  
“Miracle. I need more caff. I don’t give one osik what you put in it but get it here fast.” If he was going to deal with his di’kut vod, he would definitely need more caff. With a hiss, his office door slides open and his smiling Shiny vod strolls in, bearing a mug of freshly brewed caff. Fox doesn’t pause, shooting to his feet and accepting the mug Miracle hands to him. He almost doesn’t care that it’s a mug that Ponds gave him for his decanting day. Almost. The word Foxy and a sketch of a fox was as Ponds decided “A damn good mug.”  
“What’s up boss. That’s your 7th mug of caff today?”  
“The senators think I’m their karking proof-reader and then Wolffe gets himself arrested again. Thanks for the caff Miracle. You’re a karking god.”  
“Sucks. I put some alcohol in that. Thought you might need it.”  
Oh, thank the force. Fox downs the whole mug and places it on top of a precariously placed stack of paper before grabbing his bucket and striding out the door.

Lower Level Coruscant.  
Fox dismounts his speeder and thanks the pilot. So, this was the shit hole Wolffe got locked up in. Looks even worse than the other 2 lockups that Wolffe has got his sorry shebs locked in. The police droids take one look at his armour and usher him through. A nat born officer stops him, then sees his pissed off expression and offers to guide him to Wolffe’s cell.  
“So, sir, who are you here to pick up? Is he a criminal? Or a disobedient clone?” The officer prattles on. Fox gives him furious glare at his prying.  
“I’m sorry. Is it confidential?” He stammers. All confidence has exited his body with the force of Fox’s glare  
“Here’s the cell. Here’s the clearance card. I’ll see myself out.”  
Fox surveys the cell. It looks empty. Wolffe is probably sulking in a corner. Go figure. The clearance card slides through the lock and the door creaks open. He steps in and something heavy lands on him. He swears, low and vicious as legs wrap round his neck and squeeze. Fox blindly reaches behind him and latches on to the side of the man before bending and leaning forward. His attacker flies off and hits the wall of the cell. Fox reaches for his blasters, only one remains and he points it directly at his attacker. The figure whips to their feet and sees Fox’s blaster pointed at them.  
“Step into the light. Now.” Fox growls. The person obeys and steps forward into a beam of light.  
“Wolffe?” Fox questions, stowing his blaster. Big mistake. The minutes older clone lunges at him and drives Fox’s stolen blaster into his bucket. It hurts more than Fox would expect. Black flashes before his eyes and his vision goes all hazy.  
“Kriff vod. Its me!” Fox yelps, then regrets it as the loud noise causes his vision to swim. His hands push his bucket off his head and he discards it to the side.  
“Fox’ika?” Comes the tentative voice.  
“Yes! It’s me you di’kut. Why did you attack me you bastard? I’m here to bail you out!” Fox’s voice rises to a shout and he dimly registers Wolffe cringing away from him and dropping the blaster.  
“Oh. I can’t see osik. My eyes are swollen shut. The Trandoshan bastard managed to land a few good hits.”  
“Oh ori’vod. Why did you get into another damn fight? I have better things to do than bail you out.”  
“He called Comet a flesh clanker. Said we’re no better than droids. And that he could shoot me and my vod’ika and he wouldn’t even be charged with manslaughter. It would only be destruction of property.” His voice cracks and he slumps forward into Fox’s arms.  
“Come on vod. Let’s get you back to the barracks.” Fox leans down and grabs his bucket before putting his arm over Wolffe’s shoulder. His scarred vod is limping and clutching his ribs. “Jeez Wolffe. How many injuries do you have?’”  
“My eyes are swollen shut; think I tore something in my knee. Broke at least 3 ribs and I reckon I have a concussion.” Wolffe reels off. Fox whistles.  
“I think we better take you to Scratch.”  
“He’s gonna lose his shit at me.”  
“He’s your CMO. He won’t be that mad.”

104th Barracks. The Infirmary   
Fox was wrong. Fox was so so so wrong.  
“I can’t kriffing believe you Commander. You go out for drinks with Comet, Sinker and Boost and then you’re dragged into the med bay by your vod 2 hours later, with a karking list of injuries that would put most people unconscious. Broken ribs? You kriffing di’kut. Take off your karking shirt. I can’t heal you if you won’t let me check you over. Do you think I’m a kriffing Jetii? That I can heal you with my mind? Kriffing hold still you di’kut!” Scratch rants, swinging a syringe through the air with an almost flippant attitude.  
“I’m OK Scratch. This isn’t necessary.” Wolffe grumbles, lying on a med bay bed dodging the syringe as Scratch attempts to stab it into his abdomen.  
“You kriffing think this isn’t necessary? You kriffing di’kut. This is the 3rd time this leave you have been injured. I’m going to karking tie you to this bed until you stop being such a brawling di’kut. And don’t even get me started on what happens on deployment you- “Scratch yells, finally at the end of his temper.  
“Scratch! Rouge got a face tattoo and now his eyes are swollen shut and his face is leaking something, and we don’t know what to do!” A clone pilot who skidded into the med bay screams. The clone in question is guided into the med bay with pus weeping from his cheaply done face tattoo.  
“Oh, for kriffs sake. Wait here Wolffe. Don’t you dare move from this damn bed while I sort out this di’kut.” The torrent of swearing in Mando and Basic continues as Scratch storms away from Wolffe’s bed and towards the poor clone. Fox almost feels sorry for him. But if he was stupid enough to get a tattoo on Coruscant. Those tattooists are full of osik.  
“I never thought he’d never leave. Help me sneak out Fox’ika. Please.” Wolffe begs. Fox doesn’t want to be on the wrong side of another medical officer.  
“Sorry Wolffe’ika. You brawled; you deal with the medic. Not my fault. Bye vod.” His comm chimes and Fox stands. A hand grabs his elbow and Wolffe yanks him back down onto the chair.  
“Don’t you dare leave Fox.” Fox pries the hand of his elbow and strolls towards the door  
“Sorry. Duty calls. Have fun in the infirmary you kriffing di’kut.” A heavy medical tray passes his nose and crashes into the doorway. His head whips around, eyes wide and spots Scratch with his hand outstretched.  
“No swearing in my kriffing med bay!” Scratch shouts angrily.  
“Hypocrite” Wolffe mutters. Scratch’s head whips around so fast you can almost hear his neck crack. The medic’s face goes from stony cold to as cold as Hoth.  
“Aren’t medics meant to be nice and friendly?” Rouge questions.  
“Really. What gave you that impression?” Scratch says in a falsely nice tone, his face neutral, but giving the impression he’s about to give another yelling lecture. Fox decides its best to beat a hasty retreat.

Inside the Office of the Commander of the Coruscant Guard.  
The Wolfpack has again been arrested in lower level Coruscant. The Commander reserves his one comm call right.   
Fox sighs and presses the button on his desk in order to get Miracle to prepare another caff mug. Then he leans back in his chair and awaits the inevitable call.

**Author's Note:**

> Mandolorian Translation and Pronounciation  
> shebs-[shebs] -backside, rear, buttocks  
> vod -[vohd] -brother  
> osik -[OH-sik] -dung  
> ori'vod -[OH-ree-VOD] -big brother, older brother  
> jetii -[JAY-tee] -Jedi  
> di'kut -[DEE-koot] -idiot
> 
> Miracle is one of my clone OCs. His name is Miracle because he works miracles (Makes the best caff in the GAR)  
> HC that the Wolfpacks medic is called Scratch


End file.
